In an earlier blog entry, “What Do You See?” I shared that you must find a way to quell the anxiety that a diagnosis of breast cancer brings.  Visualizing Jesus pulling me up from the mud and mire of my thoughts was one way I quieted my fear.  Another way was nothing I did –  but it was everything my husband, Bob, did.

I had my MRI on a Thursday and on Friday we received the phone call we dreaded- it was breast cancer.  Dr. Brenda’s office scheduled us for an appointment that Monday, so we had the weekend to wait and stew… and wait and stew…

My husband told me – implored me- to please have a bilateral mastectomy.  He told me that he wanted me around for a very, very long time.  And that was all he cared about.  He went with me that Monday and we prayed together in the parking lot.  He became a little emotional but quickly regained his composure.  Oddly enough I didn’t feel the least bit teary-eyed at this point.  We talked with Dr. Brenda, she made a tape of her recommendations (which I listened to countless times later), and before I knew it we were at the front desk scheduling an appointment with the plastic surgeon and the hospital for surgery.

In the coming days before the surgery Bob held me, cried with me, reassured me, and prayed with me.  The evening before my surgery we shared a very tender moment.  The next morning we parked the truck in the parking garage and I prayed for us.  It resembled more of a throwing of myself upon His mercy seat.

After the surgery, Bob spent the night with me in the hospital.  When I became very ill during the night from the morphine pump, it was Bob who washed my face with a warm washcloth.  It was Bob who fed me ice chips because my arms refused to make the journey to my mouth.  It was Bob who in the coming days helped me with the drains that I came home with.  It was Bob who went to every appointment with the plastic surgeon when I experienced problems healing.  It was Bob who just held me as I cried and cried and cried some more.

It was my husband who made me feel beautiful again.  He helped me laugh again.  And when I felt like pulling those covers up over my head and not coming out, he motivated me.

Everyone needs a champion, a strong shoulder, someone who can look you in the eye and see to the very darkest part of your soul.  That person was my Robert.

From my journal:

My Robert

Your eyes hold me in their gaze,

It’s as if I’m coming home.

Your smile reaches my deepest places,

melting all the sadness away-

I’m coming home.

Your voice reaches my ears,

reminding me you love me-

I’m coming home.

Your arms encircle me,

providing strength and a haven for all moments-

I’m almost home.

Your soul mingles with mine,

Leaving your print there for Eternity-

My Robert- I’m home at last…